No Surprises
by spinlight
Summary: iCarly plus zombies set in a post apocalyptic world? Sure, why not. Sam/Freddie.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own iCarly. Now you know, and knowing is half the battle.

**A/N: **Possibly long note ahead. Holiday Spirit is coming to a close, I'm working on chapter nine as you read this. This is something I wrote some time ago as a sort of writer's block breaker. I wanted to do something in third person present and I've never really done anything _out there _in terms of the iCarly fandom so I thought hey, zombies are always classy. I'll continue this depending on reaction and interest, could be just a one off. I wanted to do something a bit interactive so if I continue, I'm going to ask for suggestions on the other characters in their camp. I was thinking of a crossover of sorts. Maybe Victorious, or Drake and Josh, or Big Time Rush. Maybe take a bit from all the Nick fandom? I dunno, give me your thoughts.

/

_with no alarms and no surprises,_

_no alarms and no surprises,_

_no alarms and no surprises,_

_Silent silence._

"**No Surprises" by Radiohead.**

**Section One - Another Day Down**

The air is stale.

Freddie Benson is slowly moving across a floor littered with papers and other debris, through a hallway with a shotgun in his hand and a bag resting against his hip. Sunlight filters in through the broken windows and helps him navigate his way around any obstacles. This was the fourth building of the day and so far the gang hadn't found anything useful- nothing overly anyway. Some canned food but not enough for everyone in the camp. After a few more steps, he picks a door to his left at random and tries to open it only to find it's locked. With a slight scowl on his face, he repeats the actions on two more doors, the latter one opening. He moves into the room cautiously, shotgun raised out in front of him.

It's a quick inspection before he lowers the weapon but doesn't take his finger off the trigger. Steps are measured as he moves around the office, and eyes are searching for any sign of trouble. The office looks like every other room in every other building he's rummaged through for the last year. It's wrecked, and stained, and it would be eerie but he's too desensitized by this point so really it just comes off as boring. Freddie continues further inside, moving around the room until he stops behind the desk. He uses his free hand to shuffle around the papers, to push aside assorted objects on the surface and when he gets fed up with that, he pulls open the drawers and starts digging through what's inside of them.

Nothing valuable.

A frown shapes his lips as he picks up a rubber band ball, tossing it in the air once or twice before dropping it into his bag and moving over to the filing cabinet in the corner. Freddie pulls open the first drawer with ease but it's empty, of course. The second drawer seems to be stuck. He grips the handle tight, hooking his thumb against the tiny metal lock and pushing in. It won't budge, signaled by nothing happening and his frustrated sigh fighting against the silence in the room. He takes half a step back and sets his gun on the desk, aimed towards the door before attempting to open the drawer again. This time with two hands.

It takes a lot of effort but he finally manages to pull it open. Looking inside, it's full of battery packages. His voice is rasp from non-use. "Holy chiz, jackpot."

Freddie starts shoving packages by the fist full into his bag, a slight feeling of elation traveling steadily through his bloodstream. It's naturally cut short by the sound of a familiar and more than tortured groan. He freezes in his actions, slowly turns towards the door to see a male zombie dressed in a tattered suit staring at him with the whites of his eyes. Nether move for a second before Freddie makes a play for his gun and the zombie lurches forward. In the next moment, a shotgun is fired and the zombie's head explodes, his body dropping to the ground, finally lifeless. Freddie takes a step or two until his back hit's the wall behind him roughly.

"You know you're never suppose to put down your gun when we're inside the city."

Standing in the doorway, right behind where the zombie toppled over is Carly Shay, a short, lithe brunette girl. She's holding a smoking gun in one hand and the other is cocked against her hip. She looks a mixture of angry and disappointed. It causes his russet eyes to drop to the dirtied floor before shifting back up to her.

"I know." He says sullenly.

"You do?" She asks rhetorically, looking to where his gun still rests. "I guess that's why your gun is on the desk then."

He swallows down harshly on the indignation threatening to well up in his throat like bile. He knows she's not getting on his case for no reason, knows that she cares a lot about him and doesn't want to lose him. She just gets edgy nowadays, ever since Spencer- he shook his head, letting the thought go. "I had to set it down to get the filing cabinet open. It was stuck, had to use both hands."

"So you forget about the cabinet."

"Forget about the cabinet? Look inside of it, Carls, it's full of batteries. Like packed!" Freddie says with a hint of disbelief that she'd suggest something like that when they were running low on, well everything back at the camp.

"I don't care." She tries to say firmly but there is a quiver in her voice. "A drawer full of batteries isn't worth you becoming zom chow.

The brunette boy watches her closely before taking a step forward.

"I was fine, Carly." When she only arches her brow, he continues. "I was. I would have gotten to my gun in time to blow that sucker's head off, no problem. You just couldn't stop yourself from coming to save the day like always."

He ends with humor, a faint smile and she returns it softly. "Not my fault you need saving on a regular basis. Grab the rest of the batteries and let's get out of here. Longer we stay in here, the longer Sam and Gibby have to be out there."

Freddie nods and begins to toss the rest of the supplies in the bag while Carly stand guard in the door. The two of them make a good team, they know each other so well. It's why they were always chosen as an inside unit. It use to be him and Sam but after too many close encounters **(**distracted by fighting or kissing**)** that almost led them to death, it was decided it was best if they were split on up missions. Once he's done filling up, he grabs his gun and the two of them push back out into the hallway.

"So I was thinking." Freddie began suddenly.

"Yeah, that's something you do." She nods.

"If you're just going to keep interrupting then never mind."

Carly rolls her eyes, looking over to him. "What were you thinking, Freddie?"

"I was thinking." He started again. "We've pretty much scavenged the city for all it's worth. Maybe it's time we move on from Seattle."

"No."

He knew he'd be met with resistance. "Carly."

"No, we're not leaving Seattle." She stated again. "We have a safe place to sleep at night and we know our way around. We don't know what the rest of the world is like. It's too dangerous."

"How much longer can we survive here, we've been to four buildings today and this is the only one that had anything worthwhile in it."

Carly shakes her head. "We can't leave. We need to be here incase he comes back."

"Carly." His lips strain into a thin line for a moment. "We gotta think about what if he doe-"

Freddie cuts himself off, his hand shooting out in front of Carly to stop her in place. Three zombies stand all in a line, blocking their way out of the building. He looks behind them and his face contorts into a grimace.

"So three zoms in front, about ten yards." Carly states the obvious, quickly shooting one in the head. She's cocks her gun, taking aim at a second one. "Make that two."

"Two plus a whole lot more coming from behind." He informs, watching as the group of undead starts gravitating towards the duo.

Two more shots ring out and the brunette girl turns around right as Freddie blows off a zombie's head. A second later, the two of them unload on the group, taking down zombie after zombie but it doesn't seem like enough and finally, their guns empty of bullets with a good ten zombies still coming for them. Their steps are slow and precise, inching backwards and away from the creatures.

"Where did they all come from?" She asks, notes of desperation hitting pitch perfect.

"I don't know but…" He trails off for a moment. "Carly."

"Yeah?"

"Run."

The two of them turn at the same time, and bolt for the door, zombies right behind them. They push out into the daylight and onto the sidewalk right in front of the office building. The street is littered with destroyed cars, rusted and ruined. Fragments of signs and other things decorate the area.

"Dive bomb it!" A voice yells out.

Freddie and Carly dive in different directions at the same time, Freddie left and Carly right. They roll as they hit the ground. Sam Puckett, a blonde wildfire barely contained in a small body, suddenly appears behind an abandoned car on the street. She starts shooting one zombie after another.

"Gibs, thin the middle." Sam commands, gun pointed forward and body flat against the hood of the car.

Standing on the walkway overpass built over the street, Gibby starts pumping out rounds. He's aiming for the zombies in the back of the group while Freddie and Carly manage to get over to where Sam is set up, both ducking behind the car on either side of the blonde, breathing in heavy inhales and exhales.

"You alright, princess?" Sam fires another shot.

Carly nods. "Yeah, fine."

"I was talking to Benson." Sam says with a grin, sparing a glance over at Freddie. "Mama's play thing still in working condition?"

"Keep shooting, Sam." He says while rolling his eyes.

Sam shoots two more times, taking out the last zombie. She lowers her gun, looking up to Gibby. "Clear?"

Gibby tucks his shotgun between his back and his backpack before gripping the railing and jumping off the side of the overpass, landing a few feet down onto the roof of a car. "Level completed."

As Gibby drops to the ground and makes his way over, Sam leans against the car. "MVP goes to Sam Puckett for her spectacular head shots. Honorable mentions go to Gibs for his boyish good looks." She turns to Freddie. "Dishonorable mentions go to Freddie for his face."

"Whatever, you kiss it." Freddie retorts.

"Only when I feel like it." The blonde pauses. "Loot acquired?"

Freddie shakes his head, the same banal expression shaping his features. "Few notebooks and pens, some canned food. Whole lot of batteries."

"Not bad, not bad. We hitting anymore buildings?" Sam asks, pushing off the car.

"No, I think we're done for the day." Carly starts. "Let's just head home. Low on ammo and it'll be dark soon, shouldn't risk it."

The four begin down the street, Sam jumping on Freddie's back like always. "Hey, go big or go home."

"Yeah, she clearly just said we're going home." Freddie shakes his head, hands gripping at her thighs. She's light, way too skinny. "And you know, I'm not your own personal sort of transportation."

"You kinda are, dude." Gibby chips in.

"Whose side are you on?" Freddie asks, eyes narrowing.

Sam's grinning face answers next to his. "The winning side."

Gibby shrugs and Carly shows a hint of a smile while they continue on down the street, towards the camp site. It was another day down in this different world, in their new lives. As Sam jokes around with Carly, Freddie idly wonders if things will ever get easier.


End file.
